(no subject)
CHAPTER SIX
When Jack finished his final song of the night, he immediately went to pick up a fresh glass of water from Tony. Then half the club seemed to have similar thoughts, while the remaining patrons sat and listened to Owen bang out “Turn Back, O Man.” Jack and some others sang along at appropriate moments. That was the reason Jack suggested that Owen play it by himself; he figured many people at the club would know the words and know to sing along with him. Jack loved seeing the participation! It encouraged Owen’s improvisation as well. The singer said a silent thank you to Owen’s mother for forcing “a little culture” on him as a child. It was good to see Owen smile, to be creative. Not that Torchwood didn’t call for some creativity every now and then, but it wasn’t the same. Maybe he should ask Owen about working on some original pieces.
Jack put the idea temporarily out of his head as he finished his water. It was time to get ready for Ianto. He would freshen up in the back, change into the grey trousers and pale green button down he bought that afternoon and be there just in time.
“Jack!”
Jack turned his back to the bar to see who had called out his name. Pushing through the crowd was the woman from earlier that day, Gwen, if he remembered correctly. Her determined, petite frame knocked through the throng that was waiting to order drinks.
“Hi, Gwen,” Jack greeted when the brunette finally made it to his side. “Busy night tonight.”
“Yes, it is. Word must travel fast.”
“What do you mean?”
“About you. I’m sure most of these people are here for you as much as for the next band.”
“Well, that’s nice of you to say, but Owen and I have only been doing this together since last night. I don’t think word could get around that quickly.”
“Well, I came back,” she said with a shrug.
“And on behalf of the Bleu Allée, we thank you for your patronage.” Jack gave a mock bow and Gwen laughed a bit too loudly. “I want to apologise for Owen’s behavior earlier today. If ever there was a man who wasn’t a morning person, it’s Owen Harper. He didn’t mean any harm.”
“No harm done. Though I will say, he doesn’t seem like a welcoming sort at any hour.” Gwen giggled at her slight as she glanced over at Owen. He was just completing the final chords of his set. “He plays well though. I imagine that’s how you two became friends.”
“We met through mutual friends actually. He’s been through a lot over the last few years. I think this move is just what he needs. He’s really a great guy when you get to know him.”
“Oh, I’m sure he is. I didn’t mean be insulting. If he’s friends with you, then there must be something good about him.”
Jack felt the distinct need to leave the conversation as quickly as possible. Perhaps Gwen was a lovely girl but he did not like the conclusions she drew about Owen and their relationship; it was awfully presumptuous.
She was obviously interested in him as well, if the batting of her long lashes was any indication; Jack was pretty certain that all species across the universe that have eyelashes use them for the same purpose. He didn’t want to be mean, but he didn’t have time to listen to the backhanded compliments she was dealing.
“Well, it was nice seeing you again, but I have to get going.”
Instead of moving out of his way, Gwen stepped in closer to Jack. “Do you have to go so soon? We just started talking. I was hoping we could sit for a while and talk… about your music and such.”
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he switched their places. “Maybe some other time, but I really must be going.”
“What about tomorrow? At the café? We can have breakfast.”
Of all the ways he was hoping to spend tomorrow morning, having breakfast with Gwen was not one of them. Having breakfast with Ianto, whether at the café or at Ianto’s flat however… “I’m sorry I can’t tomorrow.”
Her face fell and her large eyes widened. Jack felt himself wince, like he just kicked a sweet, innocent puppy. “Oh well. Soon then?”
Giving in to his guilt, Jack touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers before quickly with drawing them back. “Soon.” With that he charged through the patrons to the back room.
“You are barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart.”
Gwen jumped in surprise. She hadn’t even noticed Owen come to stand beside her. “Oh! I didn’t see you there.”
The pianist snorted then signaled for Tony. “I know you didn’t. You were too busy wasting your time. A pint please, Tony? And whatever the lady would like. She’ll need it.”
Keeping her head held high, Gwen ordered a glass of pinot noir. When Tony left, she faced Owen. “What do you mean ‘wasting my time’?”
“You know what I’m talking about. I said it to you earlier, but apparently you don’t like to listen. Stay away from Jack.”
Gwen flipped her long hair behind her shoulders, annoyed. “Why should I? He seemed perfectly willing to talk with me just now.”
“That’s because Jack is nice. I’m not nice, but I’m going to make an exception in this case and tell you once again; it’s not going to happen. You might as well toddle along and find a different bone to play with.”
“Are you jealous or something? Do you want Jack for yourself? Is that it? If that’s the case, you’re the one barking up the wrong tree. Jack already told me how much he values your friendship.”
Owen growled and grabbed Gwen’s arm. He tugged her roughly so he could speak into her ear. “Listen here, little girl. I don’t want or need Jack Harkness for anything more than how I already have him. And that’s not in my bed. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.” He pushed her away just in time for their drinks to be set down in front of them. Owen took a long gulp of his beer before slamming it down. “Jack is a friendly guy and he likes people. God knows I have no idea why. So, if he wants to talk to you and be your friend, bully for you, but just know that’s all it will be. He has a better friend for everything else.”
“He has a girlfriend?”
The surprise and sadness in Gwen’s voice made Owen choke on his laugh. She was so naïve thinking a man like Jack Harkness didn’t have someone. He could have anyone. Owen admitted that Gwen was cute. The freckles, the gap between her teeth, the haughty way she brushed her fringe out of her large eyes. But, she wasn’t for Jack and the last thing Owen wanted was some lovesick girl tagging along with them, showing up to all of their sets, and invading their café. He wouldn’t be able to take it.
“Do you think someone like Jack is lonely? He can have anyone.”
“So? Maybe he wants - ”
“Maybe he wants you? In your dreams.”
“You are jealous. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be going out of your way to hurt my feelings. You wish you had all the attention he’s getting. You’ve been here longer than him, yes? Jack’s been here two days and look how much the crowd loves him. You’re nothing more than backup.”
“You can say whatever you want, sweetheart. Your opinion means absolutely nothing to me. I just thought you should know that Jack doesn’t need or want what you’re offering.”
As if on cue, Jack headed back through the crowd. Gwen noticed the change of clothes and the fervent expression on his face. He waved distractedly as he ran by.
“Night, Owen.”
“Good luck, mate,” Owen called back, taking a bit of enjoyment at Gwen’s sudden paleness. Jack threw his head back and laughed before disappearing out the door. Owen looked down at Gwen snidely. “Night, sweetheart.”
“Gwen.”
Owen paused. “Excuse me?”
“My name is Gwen, not ‘sweetheart.’” Her voice was cold as ice, but her eyes were full of melancholy and need.
“Thanks for the reminder, Gwen.”
“Goodnight, Owen.”
He was late. Oh, God, he was late.
Ianto was stood under a tree outside Les Deux Magots, watching groups of people walk by and sit at the tables, drinking, laughing and kissing. It was 10:40pm and there was no sign of Jack. Ianto felt foolish. What had happened to his date? Surely he’d remembered what time he had asked Ianto to be there. Unless the American had decided he didn’t want to go out with Ianto after all. Maybe he’d found someone better to spend his time with that evening. No, no. Jack wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble to meet him only to stand him up a few hours later. So, where was he? Perhaps, something had held him up at the club. Yes, that must be it.
Having temporarily eased his worry about his absent date, Ianto looked down at his choice of outfit for the evening. He had spent more time than he’d intended at his studio, but he couldn’t help it. When inspiration struck he had no choice but to go with it. So, because of his artistic haze, he’d had less time to prepare for the evening. He’d showered and styled his hair, keeping the wavy look. He’d debated on how casual to dress. Jack had only seen him in suits, but the café wasn’t that fancy. He had settled for casual trousers and a teal, lightweight, cotton jumper that was slightly fitted. Ianto never thought he had the most impressive, muscular frame, but it wasn’t bad; it wouldn’t hurt to hint at it.
After another five minutes he began to fret again. Fifteen minutes late now. Ianto arrived slightly early, so he had been waiting for a total of twenty minutes. He was sure people were whispering about the young man checking his watch, who was getting stood up, but kept waiting like a dog. Club or no club, if Jack was much later Ianto was going to kill him after his own recovery from death by embarrassment.
Breaking through the stream of Welsh curses he was muttering, was the loud and rapid sound of shoes hitting pavement. A shiver went up his spine and Ianto took several calming breaths. It had to be Jack. He counted to three before looking down the street towards the persistent sound. There he was, only a few feet away. Jack slowed his pace when their eyes met. For a second, Ianto forgot his distress. Jack looked so handsome. Gone was the greatcoat and suspenders and in their place were grey trousers and an untucked pale green shirt. It was the look of trepidation his those striking blue eyes that reminded Ianto of the current situation.
“You’re late,” was all he said when Jack reached him.
Jack looked suitably ashamed and clasped his hands together in a begging gesture. “I know and I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “Should I?”
Jack’s expression morphed into that of a Cheshire cat. “Oh, yes, you should.”
“Well then. I’ll let you spend some time proving that to me.”
“I like the sound of that! Shall we sit down?”
The pair managed to get an outdoor table and immediately ordered a bottle of wine. Looking over the wonderful menu, Jack gave in to his need for chocolate and ordered gateau au chocolat while Ianto opted for the coupe des Deux Magots, both agreeing they should try each others’.
Conversation flowed as easily as the wine. Jack found out that Ianto wasn’t actually a tailor at all, but an artist, a painter! He worked at the shop a few days a week to pay for his supplies and an art studio by the river. Jack was so excited to hear more about Ianto’s work that he bombarded him question after question. Ianto wasn’t used to talking so much, not on a first date, but he found it so natural to tell his story to Jack, especially as he seemed to genuinely want to know about him.
“My father considered me a prodigy from a very young age and spent lots of money on art classes for me. He had me submit into every contest, scholarship opportunity or open gallery that he could find. It was quite exhausting really. Finally, when I was about seventeen, I was noticed and had one of my canvases displayed at a prominent gallery in Cardiff. I got more and more attention, but I didn’t know what to do with it all. I ran off with some mates one night and, well, let’s just say I made up for missed years of rebellion. My father was livid and told me I had to be serious if I wanted to be a respected artist. What he actually meant was a wealthy artist. In a final act of teenage defiance, I left home, moved to London and stopped painting for anyone but myself.”
“So, how did you end up in Parí?” Jack wondered, reaching across the table to taste Ianto’s blackcurrant sorbet.
“Needed a change. I was nearing my mid-twenties and still just wandering through life. On a whim, I submitted a piece to a grant committee and received money to study and paint here. When that dried up, I stayed on. Got the job at the tailor shop and I’ve even sold some work as well. This is home now.”
“You’ve had quite an interesting life so far, Mr. Jones.”
Ianto shrugged. “It’s been rather normal until recently.” Jack gave him a questioning look. “It’s not every day that I have American nightclub singers walking into my life.”
“I should hope not. I would hate to think someone is copying me!”
Ianto chuckled. He pushed the rest of his dessert, which Jack was intent on sampling again, to him. “I get the impression that you are a complete original, Jack Harkness.”
“One and only. Do you want more of this?” he asked pointing to the ice cream with his spoon.
“You can finish it if you like. Between that chocolate, the wine and this, I can’t handle anymore.”
“I think my jog over here worked up my appetite.” Jack heaped the remnants of Ianto’s dessert onto his spoon and shoveled it into his mouth, dribbling a bit on his chin.
Ianto automatically reached out to swipe the melting ice cream off Jack’s face. He didn’t even think about the gesture until after he’d licked his finger clean. He noticed Jack’s eyes transfixed on him. Ianto blushed and wiped his hands on his napkin.
He folded the piece of cloth, nervously. “I was thinking, if you’d like, we might walk down to the Seine. I wasn’t sure if you’ve had the chance to go down there. It’s really quite lovely, and it’s not a chilly night or anything. Of course if you’d rather do something else, that’s completely fine.”
Jack settled his hand over Ianto’s fidgeting ones, stopping his ramble. “Ianto?” He waited for the younger man to look up. “You okay?”
Ianto nodded his head vigorously. He wasn’t okay. Well, he was too okay, if such a thing could be said. He was surprised how comfortable he was with Jack, how this didn’t seem like a first date at all. It was so natural for them to laugh together and touch. That never happened with Ianto before, ever! He was usually nervous on dates, wondering what to do with his hands or wondering what to say to make his date laugh. It always seemed forced. But being with Jack was easy and that unnerved him.
“Why don’t we pay the bill and go for that walk? I haven’t had time to go to the Seine, so that sounds perfect to me.”
Less than twenty minutes later, Ianto and Jack were strolling along the river, their shoulders brushing against each other and their fingers loosely linked together. They didn’t say much, just enjoyed the comfortable silence as they took in the serenity of the night. The moon shone brightly in the sky and the gentle lapping of the water interspersed with other couples and groups passing by, created the perfect atmosphere to relax and just be.
Jack was so contented. Ianto’s brief nerves had abated as soon as they’d left the café and Jack took his hand, a hand he still held and no intention of letting go until he absolutely had to. He really couldn’t believe his luck. No, not luck, Fate. He never would have used the word before, but there was no other way to describe the path his life had taken over the last three days. Had it only been three days? For Tosh and Susie it was much less than that. Jack shook thoughts of his team away, not wanting to spoil his current happiness.
Back home Jack was satisfied. His team was slowly starting to come together and he was missing Alex and the others less and less each day. Torchwood 3 was doing good work and Jack was happy with that. He didn’t focus on the missing pieces of his life; it didn’t do him any good to dwell. But this, being in Parí, was a chance to have the things he lacked, if only for a little while. He was excited to go to work and entertain people and be relatively certain that he wasn’t going to suffer a horrible death and painful resurrection. He loved being part of a friendly community instead of hiding from it. And he was surprised and delighted that the man at his side brought out the romantic in him. Jack thought of the lengths he went to just to see Ianto. Monsieur Homme was a very nice man, but Jack had really wanted Ianto to be on the other end of the tape measure. He chuckled at the memory
“What’s so funny?” Ianto asked, tugging on Jack’s hand.
“I was just thinking about the tailor shop. Monsieur Homme really knows what he’s talking about.”
“He said you placed a sizeable order.”
“I was in need of some things. What did that couple end up doing about the shirt?”
“Thankfully, Miss Lavalee went with a sensible blue one. They - they were asking about you, after you left.”
“Really? And what did they want to know?” Jack stopped and led Ianto over to the low stone wall that separated them from the water. He leaned against it and pulled Ianto to him, letting his arms wrap around the younger man’s waist.
Ianto’s hands settled on Jack’s upper arms and rubbed the soft cotton of Jack’s shirt. He idly wondered where he had purchased it; it was good quality, but it wasn’t from his shop. As his fingers continued their caress, Ianto couldn’t help but notice and be excited by Jack’s muscular build. It was one thing to see the outline of the muscles through Jack’s clothing and quite another to feel them underneath his hands, feel the subtle way Jack leaned into his touch.
Not wanting to give in too much to his imagination, Ianto chose to answer Jack’s question. “They wanted to know how we met actually.”
“Oh? So, they didn’t believe I was just another customer?”
“Not for a minute. They commented on the way you were looking at me.”
“Well, I can’t help but look at you. Have you seen yourself? And I’m enjoying this color on you as well.”
“They heard you singing to me too.” Jack smiled broadly and drew Ianto closer. “Miss Lavalee was a bit jealous. Her fiancé can’t sing at all.”
“I’m sure he has other talents.”
“That’s what he said.” They both enjoyed laughs at that, feeling the vibrations hum through their bodies. Ianto sighed when Jack’s hands rubbed lazy circles along his back. He couldn’t form the words to describe how he felt in Jack’s arms, so he decided not to try. Instead, he just gazed into the cerulean depths of Jack’s eyes and hoped that the other man knew what he couldn’t say.
Jack knew. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ianto’s, softly. There was no hesitation as Ianto responded in kind, before increasing the pressure of the kiss. His hands trailed up to gently cup the back of Jack’s head, his fingers nestled in the short, thick hair. Jack moaned at Ianto’s enthusiasm and let the tip of his tongue graze Ianto’s full bottom lip. Ianto opened his mouth slightly, letting his teeth nip and his tongue enjoy his first taste of Jack Harkness.
The kiss did not last very long, just long enough to sate their curiosity and make them yearn for more. When they pulled apart, Ianto rested his forehead against Jack’s and let their combined scents again invade his body and mind.
Jack sighed and pressed one more kiss to Ianto’s parted mouth. “I have been wanting to do that for - ”
“Hours!” Ianto exhaled.
“Yes, hours. I was going to say ‘a long time.’ But, it hasn’t been that long, has it? It feels…” He didn’t want to finish the sentence. It sounded too corny even for him!
But, Ianto agreed with him. “It does.”
They continued their walk, at a slower pace, with a tighter handhold than before and a few more feather-light kisses along the way.
“Are we headed somewhere?” Jack asked some minutes later.
“Well, it’s getting a bit late. I have to open the shop tomorrow.”
“So, we’re headed towards your flat?”
Ianto nodded. “Is that alright? It’s not far.”
“It’s fine, Ianto. And it is getting late.”
Ianto led them a few streets away from the river onto a quaint block of old houses with brightly colored window boxes and small, gated front yards.
“This way.” Ianto led Jack through an archway on the left and entered a courtyard surrounded by three buildings of two-story apartments, each with a balcony, much wider than Jack’s. It was in need to re-bricking and some weeding, but otherwise was quite attractive. Jack could imagine Ianto sitting out here sketching its moss covered stone fountain for the birds and the wooden chaise chairs scattered about.
“Wow, this is something else!” Jack said, spinning around to take in the sight. “You have two floors?”
“Yeah, I’m lucky. My best mate and I both live here and Monsieurs Homme and Ballanger are rather generous.”
They stopped outside of an apartment on the end, neither making any move towards Ianto’s door. Jack rubbed circles along the top of his date’s hand and made a decision. He didn’t want to pressure Ianto into letting him in. He didn’t want to rush what was blossoming between them. He wanted to take his time, not too much, but just enough. He trusted that they would both instinctively know how long that was. Everything about his encounters with Ianto fell neatly into place and Jack hoped that by walking home alone that night, he would have the chance to see how Fate would move them about next.
“Well, I guess this is where I say goodnight, Ianto.”
“Goodnight, Jack, and thank you.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you for agreeing to go out with me in the first place?”
“I would have been a fool not to after all the trouble you went through.”
“No trouble at all.”
They smiled at each other for a long moment before Ianto leaned in and kissed Jack’s soft lips. “So, when can I see you again?”
“Whenever you want!” Jack exclaimed.
“Tomorrow? I’m not working technically, just opening and minding the place until Monsieur Homme arrives from morning services. Maybe I can try my hand at tour guide?”
“I’d love it. What time should we head out?”
“Right after breakfast? Say 9ish?”
“Perfect. I’ll pick you up here.”
“It’s a date.”
Jack had to keep his feet from dancing; he was so elated. But, he did sneak in a few more kisses before finally breaking away from the Welshman. After Ianto vanished into his home, Jack spun around and jogged happily out of the courtyard.
Ianto locked the door behind him and headed to the kitchen. He was too excited to sleep, perhaps a little snack before bed would calm him down.
When he walked into the small room, he saw his best friend and flatmate with his head buried into the open refrigerator. He must have had the same thought. Ianto was about to turn around, not wanting to talk about his date or anything else, but his friend called out.
“Ianto mate, is that you?”
Ianto sighed. “Yeah, Rhys. What are you doing?”
“Just grabbing a little something to hold me until breakfast.” Rhys pulled out a few pieces of fruit and placed them on the countertop beside a few slices of bread and a peanut butter jar.
“Looks rather healthy for you,” Ianto commented.
“I’ll make up for it tomorrow. So, how was your date?”
Ianto really didn’t want to answer, mostly because he knew Rhys didn’t want to know.
Rhys had been living with Ianto in Parí for a few years, and he never had much luck with romances. Ianto suspected that that was fine with him… as long as Ianto was alone as well. He didn’t want to upset Rhys and he wanted him to like Jack when they eventually met. Ianto hoped they would soon. Even after one date, he couldn’t help his mind forming long-term thoughts.
“Ianto? Did you hear me? I asked how your date went with that guy?”
“Sorry, Rhys, I drifted there for a moment. It went well, really well.”
“’Really well?’ So, you’re going to see him again?”
Ianto nodded. “Tomorrow. I told him I would show him around town.”
“You going to show him your studio?”
Ianto frowned; he knew what Rhys was trying to ask. No one went into Ianto’s art studio except Rhys and that was only by invitation. If Ianto said he was taking Jack there, it would tell Rhys how invested Ianto was in the American. “I don’t think my studio is in the top five places to see when in Parí, Rhys.”
Rhys shrugged and gave his friend a lop-sided grin. “Just asking. If he’s as gorgeous as you say he is, maybe he’d be willing to model for you!”
“Ha! Perhaps I’ll ask him for our third date,” Ianto joked. Rhys knew it was a joke too because Ianto rarely painted portraits.
“Well, I’m glad you had a good time tonight, mate,” Rhys said, turning away from Ianto to fix his fruit and peanut butter sandwich.
“Thanks, Rhys. Night.” Ianto got up and headed towards the stairs to his bedroom. Having lost his appetite, he decided he would do some sketching instead before getting some sleep. And he knew exactly what he wanted to draw.